


Poison Apple

by whumphoarder



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Breathing issues, Field Trip, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Iron Dad, Irondad, Major Illness, Medical Procedures, Ned Leeds Needs a Hug, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Poisoning, Seizures, Sick Peter Parker, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Vomiting, corn maze, just hug 'em all man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-18 21:30:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16525016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whumphoarder/pseuds/whumphoarder
Summary: “I-I think something’s wrong with me.”Ned gives a short laugh. “Pretty sure we established that when you puked in a corn maze. You’ve got like, food poisoning or something.”Peter shakes his head. “No, not that.” He takes a few short breaths. “Chest feels weird. Kinda hard to breathe.”OrA field trip gone wrong leaves Peter and Ned wandering through a seemingly endless corn maze. This would be bad enough, but when Peter starts getting seriously ill on top of that, it all goes to shit.





	1. Lost and Corn-fused

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spidermanstan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spidermanstan/gifts).



> Dedicated to spider-man-stan on tumblr, who screamed at my last Ned & Peter story so loud that it inspired me to make another one.

Getting Midtown School of Science and Technology to approve the decathlon team for a field trip to a pumpkin farm had been a bit of a stretch. It should really be more of an elementary school activity, but their teacher had argued something about team building experiences and first-hand knowledge of agriculture giving the school a potential advantage at the upcoming tournament.

(Everyone knew Mr. Harrington just really loved those apple cider donuts.)

“Gotta say, dude, not super impressed with the whole spidey sense thing,” Ned says as they trudge through the muddy corn maze.

“Who ever said anything about spiders having a good sense of direction?” Peter shoots back.

“Have you never seen the second Harry Potter movie? It’s literally ‘follow the spiders’.”

Peter scoffs. “Yeah because movies about wizards in boarding school are totally realistic.” He presses his fingers between his eyes where a headache has been building ever since they arrived at the farm. It’s nothing major—just irritating, but it’s making his brain feel fuzzy, which is likely a contributing factor to why they’ve been weaving their way through this stupid maze for the past hour.

They turn around another corner and are met with a dead-end and a yellow sign stating ‘You look Corn-fused!’. Both boys let out an annoyed groan as they turn around to backtrack once again.

“Maybe you can do one of your leaps and look over the stalks,” Ned suggests, gazing up at the top of the corn surrounding them. “Figure out which way is out.”

Peter gives a half-laugh. “Okay, one, that’s cheating. And two, Mr. Stark says I gotta stop doing acrobatics when I think no one is looking.”

“Yeah, he’s probably right,” Ned agrees. “Pretty sure MJ is onto you.”

Peter scoffs. “Nah, I don’t think so.”

A few minutes later, Peter’s stomach growls audibly, reminding him that they’re currently missing lunch. “God, I would kill for one of those donuts right now...” he mutters.

Ned snorts. “Too bad you don’t have laser vision or something—we could roast the corn.” He gasps suddenly. “Wait, you don’t have laser vision, do you?!”

“ _No_ , Ned,” Peter groans.

His friend shrugs. “Worth a shot. But I guess even if you did, we wouldn’t have butter anyway.”

“Oh wait I just remembered!” Peter stops walking right in the middle of the path and takes off his backpack, balancing it on the top of his shoes so as not to get the bottom dirty. He starts to rifle through the contents.

“Oh my god!” Ned’s eyes go wide. “You brought _butter_?”

Peter groans and whacks him with one of his physics folders. “No but we have apples,” he says, pulling three small Braeburns out of a paper bag.

The group had started out the field trip that day by picking apples in the farm’s orchard. Flash had quickly turned it into a game of seeing how many rotten apples he could discretely chuck at Peter’s head before Mr. Harrington noticed. The answer turned out to be eleven.

Peter holds one out to his friend. “Want one?”

“No thanks.” Ned wrinkles his nose. “I’m more of a Granny Smith kinda guy.”

Peter shrugs. He puts two of the apples in the pocket of his hoodie and sticks the other between his teeth to free his hands so he can re-zip the backpack. As he straightens back up to standing, he sees black spots in his vision for a second.

Yep, he definitely needs a blood sugar boost.

**X**

Ten minutes and two and a half apples later, they turn around yet another bend in the path and arrive at a three-way crossroads. A familiar figure comes into view.

“Hey losers, you’re not lost are you?” Michelle calls over in her usual bored tone.

“What? No!” Peter denies immediately. “We’re just taking the scenic route.”

“Yeah, just enjoying the whole fall aesthetic here,” Ned says, spreading his arms out in an encompassing gesture. “Crisp air, sweet smell of corn, ankle-deep mud…” he trails off.

“The apples,” Peter throws in, making a finger gun. He takes another bite to emphasize the point.

Michelle rolls her eyes. “Whatever. The rest of the team’s been through here twice already. Mr. Harrington sent me to find you.”

“Oh,” Peter says.

She points to the path on the left. “Exit is over there.”

“We knew that,” Ned lies.

With a disbelieving snort, she walks off on the path to the right.

Peter frowns. “If the exit is over there, where are you going then?”

“Where are any of us _really_ going, Peter?” she says cryptically.

The two boys exchange a bewildered look as she stalks off.

**X**

To Peter’s dismay, the lightheadedness and headache he’s been experiencing aren’t improving with the addition of the fruit—in fact, they’re definitely getting worse. He feels vaguely nauseous now and there’s a weird tightness building in his chest that’s starting to wig him out.

“Uh, can we stop for a sec?” he asks, his breath hitching.

Ned stops walking. “You good?”

“I dunno…” Peter mumbles. He’s swaying slightly on his feet. “Just feel weird...”

Ned wrinkles his brow at him. “Weird how?”

“Head hurts. Kinda dizzy,” Peter leans forward and rests his hands on his thighs for support. His stomach twists.

“Maybe you’re just really hungry.”

Thirty minutes ago, Peter had been ready to eat anything in sight. But now his stomach is cramping and food seems like the worst possible idea. In spite of that, he mutters, “Yeah, maybe.”

Ned’s phone rings. It’s Michelle, wanting to Facetime.

“God, you guys are slow,” she says as soon as he answers. “I made it completely through again and you’re still not out.”

“Be nice, MJ,” Ned retorts. “Peter doesn’t feel good.”

“It’s nothing—I’m fine,” Peter quickly denies.

Michelle’s bored expression is replaced with a slightly curious one. “What’s wrong with him?” she asks.

“I’m right here you know,” Peter mutters, sticking his head in the frame.

She shrugs. “Fine. What’s wrong with you?”

He winces as another cramp hits his stomach. “Nothing.” He moves back out.

“Wow I’m so glad I asked,” Michelle remarks, her voice flat. To Ned, she repeats, “What’s wrong with him?”

“I don’t know,” Ned answers worriedly. “He says he’s dizzy.”

Breathing through a wave of nausea, Peter tilts the phone screen back his direction. “I’m fine, just probably need lunch…”

Michelle looks him over appraisingly. “No offense, but you look like crap,” she replies. “You’re like, sweating.”

Peter wipes a hand across his face and sees she’s telling the truth. “Huh. Weird.” He doesn’t feel particularly warm, but he’s soaked with sweat. If this is the flu or something, it sure has come on awfully fast.

Her brow furrows just the smallest bit. “Do you need me to come and get you guys?” she offers.

His cheeks flushing, Peter shakes his head. The last thing he wants is his whole team knowing they can’t even find their own way out of a stupid maze. “No thanks. We’ll be fine.”

“Fine. Good luck.”

Ned says bye and hangs up the call. Then he looks at Peter, his expression one of mild concern. “You sure you’re okay? She’s kind of right—you do look like crap.”

Peter gives a non-commital shrug. “Just feel weird.”

They continue their never-ending trudge through the maze, but It’s only a few minutes before Peter is forced to stop again as a particularly bad cramp has him doubling over. Ned grabs his elbow as Peter moans.

“What is it?” Ned asks worriedly.

“Stomach hurts,” Peter mutters through clenched teeth. His insides twist and he feels sick. “Uh…” he breathes out in warning, “Think ‘m gonna puke...”

Ned grimaces at him. “Oh, crap, okay…”

Peter stumbles a few steps over to the side of the path and leans forward, hands braced on his knees. He waits a minute, breathing heavily as his stomach turns and mouth fills with saliva, but nothing happens. Eventually the wave of nausea fades and he straightens back up. “Never mind. I… I think I’m good,” he decides.

“You sure?” Ned asks tentatively.

Peter swallows hard and nods. “Just felt sick for a second. Sorry.”

Ned still looks wary, but doesn’t push it. “Let’s just get out of here man.”

**X**

Five minutes later, Peter does actually throw up. His stomach twists and cramps and he retches miserably. Ned stands off to the side, looking bewildered.

“Maybe the apples were bad?” Ned suggests.

One arm wrapped around his middle, Peter spits a few final strings of bile into the dirt before shakily straightening back up. He wipes his mouth with the back of the other hand. The tightness in his chest is growing steadily worse and he has to breathe faster to compensate, which is doing nothing to help his dizziness. “God this day sucks,” he gasps out.

“Yeah you’re going oh-for-two on class field trips lately,” Ned agrees.

Peter moves his hand to his chest, rubbing over his breastbone. It’s an unnerving sensation—like his lung capacity has suddenly shrunk and he can only get in half a breath at a time. Not to mention his spidey sense is going haywire. “I-I think something’s wrong with me," he admits.

Ned gives a short laugh. “Pretty sure we established that when you puked in a corn maze. You’ve got like, food poisoning or something.”

Peter shakes his head. “No, not that.” He takes a few short, painful breaths. “Chest feels weird. Kinda hard to breathe.”

All traces of humor disappear from Ned’s features. “Where’s your inhaler?” he asks immediately.

“S’not asthma,” Peter protests. He hasn’t had an attack since the bite. Like his formerly poor eyesight, the mutation had cured that particular ailment.

Ned ignores him. “Is it in your backpack?”

“Don’t have asthma,” Peter says, but he’s starting to wheeze. “Not anymore.”

“Yeah, tell that to your lungs,” Ned scoffs, but Peter can see the underlying fear in his friend’s eyes. He points at Peter’s backpack. “Is it in here or not?”

Peter shakes his head. He’s on his seventh backpack this school year and he’d only bothered asking May to replace the inhaler after the first time it had gotten stolen.

“Should I call May? Can she bring your backup one?” Ned asks worriedly.

Peter shakes his head again. “Out of town,” he gasps. “Visiting her friend.”

What he doesn’t add is that even if they did have it, most medicines don’t even work on him anymore because his metabolism requires him to take such high doses. If this really is asthma—and he’s still not convinced it is—he likely needs something a lot stronger than his expired old inhaler.

This realization only serves to increase Peter’s anxiety, which in turn makes him want to breathe even faster, and it’s a vicious cycle. His ears are ringing, his chest and stomach hurt, and he’s seeing black spots in his vision. “Need to sit,” he mumbles. “Gonna pass out…”

“Oh! Shit! Okay, I got you.” Ned grabs Peter by the elbows and helps lower him down to sit on a relatively dry part of the ground.

Peter pulls his knees up to his chest and lowers his head down to meet them, eyes closed. Ned is trying to talk to him, but his voice sounds muffled, almost like they’re underwater. It’s like the opposite of sensory overload—everything has been dialed back to negative two.

After a few minutes (Or maybe only seconds? Hours? Time is weird right now), he starts to fade back in.

“...not breathing right! I don’t know if it’s asthma or what but just bring Mr. Harrington!” Ned is urgently speaking into his phone.

Michelle’s voice comes over the speaker, the most concerned Peter has ever heard it. “Forget Mr. Harrington—I’m hanging up and calling 911.”

Between the half-breaths and the pain, Peter is somehow still hanging onto consciousness. He makes eye contact with Ned and shakes his head frantically.

Ned catches his meaning straight away. “Uh, Peter can’t go to the hospital!” he blurts out.

“Why?” she demands.

“He’s… uh, scared of hospitals,” Ned replies quickly. “Really, really scared. Terrified.”

It’s not exactly the lie Peter would have gone for, but beggars can’t be choosers. He nods in confirmation.

“You just told me his lips are turning blue,” Michelle points out. “I’m calling.”

Peter really hopes she’s exaggerating, but the worried look on Ned’s face tells him she’s not.

“No you can’t! He, uh…doesn’t have insurance?” Ned tries again.

Michelle huffs out a frustrated sigh. “It’s because he’s Spider-Man, right?”

If Peter had enough air left to care, he would have been surprised.

Ned’s eyes widen. “What? No!” he exclaims. “Of course not—why would you think that?”

Michelle scoffs. “You two literally could not be more obvious. I’ve known since February.”

There’s a beat before Ned says, “Oh.”

“Wait a minute...” she says thoughtfully. “The spider thing—it’s a mutation, right? What if it’s the pesticide making him sick?”

Peter thinks back to the orchard. Between dodging apples from Flash, he recalls hearing the farmer explain something about how they had just sprayed all the crops that morning.

Ned seems to have remembered it too. “Oh my god!” he gasps. “You think he’s being _poisoned_?!”

Peter's hand fumbles at the front pocket of his jeans for his phone. “Call... M’s’tr... Stark,” he gasps out.

His spider sense is screaming at him now and he feels his muscles start to twitch. There’s a metallic taste on his tongue and his head is pounding. He doesn’t know what’s happening to him, but the out of control feeling is making him want to cry.

The last thing he feels is Ned’s hand in his pocket. Then his brain fills with static and he blacks out.

**X**

Sound is first to return. It’s that muffled, underwater kind of hearing for the first few seconds, but then it gradually clears into intelligible speech.

“...ter? Peter? Hey, you with me?”

Peter groans in response. Someone is shaking him by the shoulders. His head feels like it’s splitting in two and every muscle in his body aches as though he’s just fought off the Vulture again. The nausea returns full force and he gags, then chokes.

“Oh god! Oh shit, oh my god!”

The someone rolls him to his side, letting the bile spill from his mouth onto the ground. Fingers are in his mouth, urgently sweeping the rest of the sick out and clearing his airway. Peter gasps, then gags again.

“Breathe, Peter! You gotta b-breathe!” The someone—Ned, his brain finally registers—sounds almost like he’s crying now.

Peter wants to say that he is, he’s trying, but his brain and his mouth aren’t cooperating. His lungs burn from lack of oxygen.

His head buzzes and then he’s out again.

**X**

There are new voices now.

“... multiple seizures. Acute respiratory distress…”

“...cardiac arrhythmia…”

Things are moving fast all around him. He’s being transported somewhere. Wheels squeak and roll beneath him. There’s a mask over his mouth and nose, forcing air into his lungs. It helps a little, but still feels like not enough.

There’s a squeeze on his arm. One familiar voice joins the mix:

“I’m right here, kiddo. We’re gonna fix this.”

“...decontamination process…”

Someone is cutting his clothing off of him. His favorite hoodie is suddenly snipped down the middle and he’s quickly freed from it. Then the same is done to his jeans.

His skin is roughly scrubbed down with sponges and lukewarm water. Someone pries his eyelids open and flushes out his eyes as well. He shivers violently.

“...O2 stats still borderline...”

“...have to intubate…”

He slips away.

**X**

When Peter comes to again, there’s something down his throat. He tries to take in a breath on his own and instantly feels like he’s choking. Panic seizes him and he jerks a hand up to claw at the tube’s base.

Immediately someone is grabbing his hand and pulling it back away from his mouth. “Hey, hey, you’re okay! It’s okay.”

Peter forces himself to open his eyes. His eyes dart around the room for a few seconds before realizes where he is—the Avengers compound. Tony is standing next to his bed, his face calm, but eyes full of concern. “You’re alright, kid. Don’t fight the ventilator,” Tony instructs.

Peter tries to relax and let the machine breathe for him. It’s still a terrifying sensation to not be able to inhale for himself, but after a few seconds, he realizes that he’s not dying.

“That’s it,” Tony praises. “See? You have air—you’re alright.”

Peter gives a small nod of acknowledgement. He points a shaky finger at the tube and makes a questioning face.

“We’ll get it out soon, bud, don’t worry,” Tony promises. From the table next to the bed, he produces a small dry erase board and a marker. “You can use this for now.”

Despite Peter’s hands shaking, he manages to grasp the marker and scrawl out his most pressing question: _What happened?_

“Diazinon poisoning,” Tony explains. “It’s a common pesticide used in farming, but it reacted pretty badly with your mutated DNA.” He sighs heavily. “Bruce thinks that in trace amounts it wouldn’t be an issue, but because they’d just sprayed that morning, there was enough in the air and on the crops to start a reaction. It got worse when you ate the apples because they were coated in it.”

Peter writes: _Healthy food made me sick?_

Tony huffs out a laugh. “Guess so, kid.”

Doctor Cho arrives a few moments later. She checks him over—shines a light in his eyes, draws some blood, and makes careful note of his vitals—before deciding he’s okay to extubate. That turns out to be a horrific process involving Peter being asked to cough repeatedly as the doctor pulls the catheter from his airway. When it’s finally out, his throat feels raw.

Cho then places a much less obtrusive oxygen mask over Peter’s face. “Just a precaution,” she explains. “Try not to talk too much yet. You can take it off for a few seconds at a time, but if this monitor” —she taps on one of the screens— “starts beeping, it goes back on, understand?”

He gives a weak thumbs up.

She uses a stethoscope to listen to his chest for a few moments and seems to approve of whatever she’s hearing. After hanging a new bag on his IV, she heads back out.

The moment she’s gone, FRIDAY interrupts. “Boss, Leeds has just been cleared by medical staff and is requesting entrance.”

Peter’s heart drops. His hand fumbles around on the bed for the marker and he immediately scribbles on the whiteboard: _What’s wrong with Ned?_

“He’s fine, don’t worry about it,” Tony quickly assures, making a dismissive gesture with his hand. “Honestly I’m starting to think he just goes into shock on purpose to make sure we bring him along.”

Peter finds this answer completely unsatisfactory and is about to express that when the door opens and Ned bursts through, looking absolutely overwhelmed.

“Peter!” he exclaims, rushing over. “Oh my god! Are you okay?!”

Peter tries to smile through the mask but settles for another thumbs up. As his friend approaches, Peter can see that Ned’s eyes are red and a little swollen.

Tony appears to notice this too. “You know, it’s been ages since anyone sorted through the supply closet,” he says casually, jerking his head towards a nearby door. “Think I’ll go do some inventory reports…”

Once Tony is out of sight and the door shuts behind him, Peter tugs down the mask for a second. “Hey man,” he croaks out. “Heard you freaked.”

That’s evidently all it takes for Ned to break down. His breath hitches and tears slide down his cheeks. “Sh-Shit, Peter… you can’t do that to me!” he manages to say through the tears. “I… I thought you were gonna die!”

Ned wipes at his face harshly with the back of his hand before taking in a deep, shuddery inhale. “You had like, four seizures, man,” he goes on, his voice thick with emotion. “An-And there was this white foam coming out of your mouth, and... _God_! You weren’t breathing! And then you threw up and you were choking on it and I-I didn’t know what to do, I just, I couldn’t think and...”

Peter’s own eyes are stinging now. He lowers the mask again. “I’m okay, now,” he chokes out. “You got me out.”

Ned scoffs. “No I didn’t! I didn’t know anything and it was so awful… I-I can’t…” He takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “Mr. Stark saved you," he said firmly. "He showed up in his suit and flew you out and onto the jet and I just... I couldn’t even figure out how to get out of the stupid maze! MJ had to come and…” He trails off and covers his eyes with his hand.

“No, you got me help.” Between short breaths, he goes on, “And you stopped me”—breath—“from choking. You did everything”—breath—“right.”

Just then the monitor starts beeping loudly and Peter realizes he’s had the mask off too long. “Whoops,” he mutters before slipping it back over his mouth and nose.

Despite the tears, Ned barks out a quick, almost hysterical sounding laugh. “I don’t know how Mr. Stark puts up with this all the time.”

“Yeah, I don’t know either, kid,” Tony grumbles. At the sound of the alarm, he had rushed back out of the supply closet and was fussing over the monitors now.

Peter tugs down the mask again and gives them a weak grin. “Sorry.”

Tony rolls his eyes and moves the mask back up over Peter’s face. “This. Stays. On,” he commands, lightly snapping the elastic band against Peter’s cheek between each word for emphasis. “And it’s gonna be only organic farms for you from here on out.”

“Amen,” Ned agrees with a groan.

A sudden thought occurs to Peter and he starts to reach for the mask, but is instantly stopped by the other two’s glares. He lowers his hand sheepishly to find the marker instead.

On the board, he scribbles: _I never got my donut._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update: If you're interested in seeing Ned's POV during the time when Peter is unconscious, chapter two has just been added.


	2. Ned's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned's point of view while Peter is unconscious.

Up until about an hour ago, Ned was having a pretty good day.

His mom cooked pancakes for breakfast, the autumn weather could not be more gorgeous, he found a twenty dollar bill in his coat pocket from last year, and this current field trip means he is missing gym class when they were right in the middle of a brutal circuit training unit. Not to mention the farm has a petting zoo and so he’s gotten to pet like, twelve goats.

And Ned fricken’ loves goats.

Then his best friend collapsed to the ground in the middle of a corn field and it suddenly became the _worst_ day.

It takes a second for Ned to register what’s happening. Peter is blinking rapidly and jerking his head. Then his eyes roll back and his muscles start to twitch—slow at first, and then faster until Peter’s whole body is jerking rhythmically on the muddy ground.

The odd thing is that even after Ned’s brain identifies it as a seizure, the panic doesn’t come right away. Instead, a strange thought pops into his head—it’s too quiet for this to be happening. Someone needs to play some dramatic music or something because the calm background sounds of the birds chirping and the breeze rustling the tree leaves don’t fit at all with the image of Peter’s convulsing body on the ground.

Then the panic rushes in.

“Peter?” Ned gasps. “Oh god, Peter!” He drops to his knees next to his seizing friend and desperately tries to remember back to his eighth grade J-term first aid elective. He knows he’s not supposed to hold the person down or stick anything in their mouth, but he’s blanking on what he’s actually supposed to _do_.

He settles for calling Mr. Stark instead.

Tony picks up on the fourth ring. “Shouldn’t you be in social studies right now, kid?” he says in lieu of greeting.

Ned’s words all come tumbling out in an anxious muddle. “Mr. Stark, sir! Please, you’ve gotta help us!”

“Who is this?” Tony asks sharply. “Why do you have Peter’s phone?”

“This is Ned Leeds, sir—I’m a friend of Peter Parker,” Ned explains quickly. “But something’s really wrong with him! It’s like he’s been poisoned or something? MJ thinks it’s pesticide! I don’t know, he got really sick and wasn’t breathing right and now I think he’s having a seizure!”

“What the hell?” Tony demands. Ned can hear a lot of movement on the other end of the line now. “Where are you?”

“We’re at a farm in Queens, but I’m not totally sure where because we’re kinda lost in a corn maze right now.”

“Why are you in a—” Tony starts, but then cuts himself off. “Never mind—I’m tracking the phone. Is he still seizing?”

“I think it’s ending now,” Ned replies. Peter’s twitching is beginning to die down. His eyes are still rolled back but he’s starting to make gasping noises. “But he’s not breathing too good. Like he wasn’t before either but—”

“Roll him on his side,” Tony instructs. “Keep the airway open. I’m on my way—ETA ten minutes—and I’ve got a med team flying in to meet us. Think you can keep him hanging in there that long?”

Ned hurries to roll Peter over. The gasping continues. “Just hurry, please!” he begs.

“I’m coming,” Tony promises before disconnecting the call.

**X**

After being out about a minute, Peter gradually comes back around. He flops himself onto his back with a moan, eyelids fluttering but still incoherent.

Ned starts shaking him by the shoulders. “Peter?” he begs. “Peter? Hey, you with me?”

Peter lets out another groan before his breath hitches and he gags. Ned can see bits of partially digested food and bile filling his friend’s mouth and the gasping noise changes to gargling.

“Oh god! Oh shit, oh my god!” Ned cries. He has never been good with vomit—usually he’s throwing up right along with the sick person. But something comes over him and right now there is only one thought running through his brain: _Peter isn’t breathing_.

Quickly, Ned rolls his choking friend back onto his side. The vomit starts spilling out down Peter’s shirt and onto the ground. Without even pausing to think, Ned shoves his fingers in Peter’s mouth and starts clearing the rest out. It’s hot and gross and it makes his own stomach lurch and his breakfast begin to rise in the back of his throat, but Ned swallows it back down because he doesn’t have the luxury of being sick right now. Peter needs air.

Tears are slipping down Ned’s cheeks. “Breathe, Peter! You gotta b-breathe!” he implores.

Finally, Peter gasps and Ned chokes out a sob because it’s the sweetest sound he has ever heard.

But only a few short breaths later, Peter’s body goes rigid and his eyes roll back in his head and Ned is left sitting there helpless once again.

**X**

This seizure lasts longer. Peter’s body thrashes on the ground for nearly three minutes, white foam frothing up out of his mouth.

Ned calls MJ this time, begging her to come, to bring someone, to do something, anything. He’s never felt so alone.

Her voice comes back breathless—she’s been sprinting through the maze to find them for the past several minutes already. Ned checks the time on his phone and wills Mr. Stark to come faster.

**X**

When the convulsions finally cease, Peter’s not choking this time, but he doesn’t seem to be breathing either. His lips are an awful shade of blue and he isn’t moving.

In pure panic, Ned calls Mr. Stark again.

“He’s not breathing!” he blurts into the phone before Tony can say a word. “He had another seizure and now he’s not breathing!”

Tony curses. “Do you know CPR?” he demands.

Ned wants to cry. He racks his brain and fuzzy images of the brief resuscitation unit from that class start to emerge. He wishes he’d paid more attention—spent less time making fun of the dummy and goofing off with the bandage rolls, but it’s too late for that now.

“I can try?” is what he chokes out in response. 

“Good man,” Tony encourages. “Listen, I’m almost there—I can see the farm.”

Rolling Peter back to his back, Ned locks his fingers together and steels himself to start compressions, tears pricking at his eyes.

But that’s as far as he gets before Peter’s body starts jerking again.

**X**

Tony and Michelle arrive at almost the same moment, just as Peter’s third seizure is dying down. The second Tony’s feet touch down on the ground, he’s retracting his helmet and racing to Peter’s side.

“I’m taking over now,” Tony says as he drops to his knees beside the unconscious boy. “You did good, kid.”

That’s when Ned completely loses it. He stumbles back to his feet and moves a few yards away from Peter before retching half-digested pancakes onto the dirt path in between sobs. Tony’s praise echos in his ears— _You did good, kid._ But he hasn’t done good, his mind screams—he hasn’t done anything. He’s been fucking useless this entire time, watching his best friend die before his eyes.

Michelle comes over and places a hand on his back. She’s trying to talk to him, but he’s not really hearing her. He’s trembling all over and his brain is somehow too loud and too fuzzy all at once.

Tony lifts Peter in his arms and rockets them both out, leaving Ned and Michelle where they stand.

**X**

Michelle guides Ned back out of the maze. They’re moving along at a good pace, but nothing about the journey back seems real. He can _see_ her hand on his arm, but he can’t _feel_ it there, just like he can see her lips moving occasionally but can’t register any of the words coming out. He feels like a zombie.

When they finally emerge from the maze, Mr. Harrington and the rest of the class instantly converge on them. Lips are moving everywhere he looks, but Ned hears none of it.

Michelle doesn’t stop—just continues pushing Ned along ahead of her all the way over to a waiting sports car. She guides him to sit down on the backseat and then buckles him in.

The driver—Happy, he recognizes from the times he’s seen Peter get picked up from school—exchanges a few words with her. Then MJ shuts the door and a moment later, Happy drives away.

**X**

The shock doesn’t really wear off until Ned is back at the compound and has been assured by multiple people that Peter, though currently on a ventilator, is still very much alive. A team of doctors has identified the toxin and they’re treating him now. He’s going to be okay.

When FRIDAY's voice finally comes over the speakers informing him that Peter is awake and able to see him now, Ned nearly knocks down Doctor Cho in his rush to the Medbay doors.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! Come and hang out on tumblr if you want - my url is whumphoarder :D  
> (Every time you leave a comment, an angel gets their wings <3)  
>   
> 

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed the Ned & Peter dynamic here, you might also enjoy: [Ned the Dumbwaiter](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16211420)!


End file.
